Muggles, Fan Mail and Metamorphmagus Werewolves
by Allergic-To-Sunlight
Summary: Confusion over Teddy's parentage, explicit fan mail and the added horror of the Durleys at Hogwarts, all the evening after Voldemort's death... hasn't Harry been through enough? Apparently not... :P Canon. Over 17,000 hits! xD Complete.
1. New Beginnings, Old Faces

Disclaimer: As surprising as this may be for some people, I am not JKR and therefore do not own Harry Potter. Bet that shocked you…

A/N: This is my first multi-chapter story, so bear with me. Set almost directly after the final battle, this fic deals with Teddy, the Dursleys and fan mail (as the title suggests). But don't worry – there will be some humour to break it up!

For all those who think that Harry should sleep practically a year and a half after the battle, do not hurt me (!). Harry has not slept the amount he wanted to – he was awoken because the sun was on his face, not because he was ready to get up. Thought I'd just clear that up before starting. :)

This is a birthday present for somerdaye, who turns 13 today! Well… technically tomorrow for her, but here in Scotland it's the 17th of August so… HAPPY BIRTHDAY SOMER!

All mistakes are mine – they have nothing to do with Aidan… turns out you just can't mess with me and my grammar… :P

SPOILER WARNING: This story contains DH spoilers, so if you haven't read it, get your butt out of this story and don't come back until you have. But, seriously, if you've not read it, why are you reading Harry Potter fanfiction, because you're obviously not a fan… it's been over a year, people!

Onward!

**Muggles, Fan Mail and Metamorphmagus Werewolves  
Chapter 1: New Beginnings, Old Faces**

Harry Potter woke in the late afternoon - squinting in the sunlight, which was streaming in through the window and on to his face. He groaned and rolled over, cursing quietly about not pulling the curtains closed around his four-poster. He lay awake, staring at Neville's empty bed, unable to shake the feeling of loss as he thought of the empty bodies of Remus, Tonks and Fred, lying somewhere beneath him.

His mind drifted to Teddy. He was an orphan now… like him. A wave of cold dread overcame him at the thought; starting in his stomach and travelling all the way to the tips of his fingers, marking his arms with goose pimples and making the hair on the back of his neck prickle. A tear escaped from the corner of his eye and fell horizontally across his face, getting lost in the folds of the thick duvet that covered him. He closed his eyes tightly and gritted his teeth, rolling on to his back as he did so - remembering his dismal childhood, and promising himself that Teddy would have a better one.

Harry sat up suddenly. He didn't like staying still. He had to move – he had to feel like he was doing something.

He grabbed his newly fixed wand and glasses from his bedside table, shoving his glasses on his face and disentangling himself from the bed sheets as the world swam into focus. He jumped out of bed and regretted it instantly, swearing quietly at the pain in his chest his eagerness had caused. Rubbing his ribs with his palm, he grabbed his rucksack (which, he presumed, Hermione had left there for him) with his free hand and made his way to the adjoining bathroom, using his shoulder to open the door.

He entered the bathroom and kicked the door closed behind him, using his wand to lock it. Setting his bag on the floor, he rummaged through it, searching for clothes that he might not have worn much in the nine months he, Ron and Hermione were gone. He found a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and, after inspecting them for holes and dirt, laid them on the floor. After a minute of rummaging and cursing, underwear and socks joined them.

Harry repacked the items he had removed in his search and placed his bag on the floor by the door so the contents wouldn't get wet. He removed the t-shirt he had slept in and threw it into the corner, where it landed on top of his bag. Turning to look at the shower on the other side of the room, he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

His hair was longer than it had ever been, the longest strands now reaching past his jaw, sticking up at the back and generally messier than ever. On his chest there was still the red oval scar from the locket (something, he realised, that might never go away), but now there were new scars. Only visible in the bright light of the bathroom, but they were still there. These new white scars surrounded the burn from the locket, fewer and fainter further away from the oval. Harry edged closer to the mirror, recognising the form of each scar.

"Damnit," he breathed, recognising each cut was identical to the one etched into his forehead. He traced one with his finger, wondering idly if one day he would be more scarred than Mad-Eye Moody. He sighed dejectedly and turned on the shower, taking off his glasses and the rest of his pyjamas before jumping under the hot water.

…

With the bodies removed, it was easy to see the damage the battle had inflicted on the Great Hall.

The flagstones were chipped and scored from stray curses and were littered with sapphires from the smashed Ravenclaw hourglass. Chunks of the four, long, scorched house tables were missing and in one corner of the room there appeared to have been a small fire.

There was blood everywhere. Splattered on the floor and soaked into the tables, it was there. Deep red and menacing, it marked the onslaught of death and fear in this room, taunting grieving families and mocking all those that were alive.

Sitting around what was left of the house tables, carefully avoiding bloodstains, were the survivors. House or blood type didn't seem to matter anymore as muggleborns and purebloods sat together, revelling in the fact that they were alive rather than caring what magical abilities their parents had. The remaining house elves had put together a feast of mourning and celebration for the inhabitants of the castle; for once sitting among the wizards and the manner of other creatures they cooked for, albeit with teary eyes.

The noise in the Great Hall shifted when Harry entered. Some growing quiet, while others gossiped in whispers to the people next to them; but Harry ignored them all. He made his way to the Gryffindor table where the Weasley's and most of the DA were situated, sitting down at the edge of the group and looking steadily at the table until the noise level returned to normal.

'Harry?' asked an unfamiliar voice.

Harry turned, his eyes travelling up to the face of his female questioner. His heart gave a jolt and started pumping adrenalin into his system; his hand jerked towards his wand. It was impossible. She was dead.

The woman gave him a soft, watery smile and his rigid form relaxed.

'Mrs Tonks,' he greeted breathlessly.

'I wondered how you were feeling?'

How he was feeling? How could he answer that when he knew he'd never see some of his friends again? Mrs Tonks seemed to understand his incredulous, pained expression for she nodded, the movement causing a tear to fall down her cheek.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the pair and Harry thought it inappropriate to ask her the same question, considering all she had lost. He fidgeted in his seat, wondering if he should stand and make her look up to him or sit and be impolite. Deciding to stand, he made it halfway out of his seat before she spoke.

'Dora told me that you were Teddy's godfather,' she began, choking slightly over her daughter's name.

Harry froze. Half crouching over his seat and bracing himself on the edge of the worn table, he turned to look at her. He could see the unspoken question on her parted lips: Are you going to take Teddy? But how could he? He knew nothing of how to take care of a baby and never would he even think of taking Teddy away from his Grandmother; his only family.

Not knowing how to answer, Harry stalled by getting slowly out of his seat and standing before her. He looked down into her eyes, so like her sister's and yet completely different, and tried to put into words what he knew he must.

'Mrs Tonks, I – I would never dream of – of taking…' stuttering, Harry shook his head, trying to tell her with his eyes that he didn't want to intrude on what family she had left. 'I'm only seventeen, I – I can barely take care of myself…' he looked away, slightly ashamed of what he'd just admitted, what it meant. When he looked back, her gaze was intense and burned his own, causing him to look away once more.

'Are you sure?' she asked, searching his face for any sign of deceit. 'Legally…'

'I don't really see the law as concrete, Mrs Tonks… not recently,' he said with a slight smile, meeting her searching eyes.

Mrs Tonks let out a sigh of relief, lip trembling and eyes bright, she whispered, 'I thought I was going to loose him,' before pulling Harry into a swift hug, which he awkwardly returned.

Pulling away from his embrace and brushing fallen tears from her cheeks, Mrs Tonks smiled up at him.

'Would you like to see him?'

'Is he here?' Harry asked stupidly, momentarily forgetting the woman before him was his only family and therefore whom he'd be with. She nodded and gave a tight-lipped, somewhat forced smile, leading him a few feet down the table where a teary-eyed Mrs Weasley was cooing over a small baby. All that was visible within her arms was a head of shocking turquoise hair.

'Molly?' beseeched Mrs Tonks, holding out her arms slightly. Mrs Weasley looked up and, with a small 'Oh', carefully handed the delicate body of Teddy Lupin over to his Grandmother. Catching sight of Harry she leapt off her seat with surprising agility and hugged him tightly. Harry winced and recoiled slightly, causing her to let go.

'Sorry,' she said tearfully, pulling him into a softer embrace. 'Oh, Harry,' she mumbled into his shoulder after a moment, 'You did it. You killed him.' She broke away from the hug, brushing away fallen tears with her fingertips. 'Thank you.' Her gaze was intense and sincere and reminded him so much of Ginny; he didn't break it.

'Mrs Weasley,' he began, clearing his throat in an attempt to make his voice sound normal, 'About Fred, I -'

'No. Don't you dare say it! None of this is your fault, Harry and I wont allow you to say otherwise!' she said, her tone somewhere between anger and hysterics, tears freely streaming down her face. Harry clenched his jaw and broke her gaze, knowing she was wrong and wondering what the outcome would have been if he'd been faster…

'Harry…' Mrs Weasley trailed off, clutching his arm and shaking her head slightly, trying to communicate her thoughts; trying to tell him he shouldn't be thinking exactly what he was.

'You can't save everyone. There are always casualties in war. You just have to-to tell yourself that th-they died as heroes.' Mrs Tonks said, tears streaking down her own face. 'But there's always life. W-with d-death always comes life' She smiled down at little Teddy in her arms and hugged him even closer to her chest; Mrs Weasley nodded tearfully beside her.

'Harry,' Mrs Tonks continued, 'The people who fought, wanted to fight. And the people who died, died so that we could all live in peace; without Voldemort.' She looked up at him, her eyes radiating a respect for him he had never seen before.

Sensing their need for privacy, Mrs Weasley squeezed Harry's arm gently and sent him one last worried glance before turning back to her husband, whom she'd been sitting with.

Harry and Mrs Tonks stood awkwardly alone and silent once again. The voices around them not seeming to penetrate the sphere of quiet that surrounded them - each voice sounding very far away. At last, when Harry thought he could take no more of the silence, Mrs Tonks spoke.

'Harry, would you like to hold your Godson?'

Harry blanched. 'I-I don't know how, I -'

'Nonsense!' Mrs Tonks stated softly, interrupting his stuttering. 'It's easy, and once you learn, you'll never forget – it's like learning how to ride a bike.'

'Actually, Mrs Tonks… I can't ride a bike…' Harry said mellifluously to her elbow, before dragging his eyes up to meet hers.

Mrs Tonks gave a watery laugh and led him to just past his original seat.

'Better start you off with stabilisers then,' she joked lightly, causing a smile to tug slightly at his lips. 'Sit down.'

He sat obediently on the bench, a short distance from anyone else, facing outward across the hall. Mrs Tonks carefully lowered Teddy into his trembling arms, mumbling incoherent words of comfort to Teddy and saying important things like 'support his head' to Harry that got lost in translation. After a bit of a struggle, Harry finally got his Godson into a comfortable position on his lap: one hand supporting his back and head, one resting cautiously at his side, making sure he didn't fall.

He had never held a baby before, never even seen one this close before, and he'd had no idea how wonderfully scary it was to be holding something so fragile. Teddy was… there was no other word for it, beautiful. His skin was peachy and soft and a rosy hue lingered over his full cheeks, clashing magnificently with his now yellow hair. His large blue eyes were curious and happy and reminded him of Tonks, whereas his nose and forehead looked like a miniature version of Remus'. Noting his own need to tell someone this, Harry realised how easy it was for people to comment on his appearance in connection to his parents. Vowing silently to not tell Teddy about his resemblance to his parents too much, he gazed into his vast blue orbs. Almost at once, his appearance changed. His yellow hair became black so quickly it was almost like someone had flipped a switch; his sleek locks changing to messy against Harry's palm.

'Oh,' Mrs Tonks breathed in awe beside him, making him jump slightly as he realised her presence. 'He must really like you, Harry. Dora only copied people she really took a shine to.' As she spoke, Teddy's eyes drifted in and out of a vibrant green, making Harry smile down at him. 'I'll give you some privacy,' she said softly, making her way over to Professor McGonagall, who was hovering by the Hufflepuff table.

'So, Teddy,' he whispered, leaning his head closer to his, 'What is it that you like about me?' He traced his soft cheek with his thumb and laughed lightly as Teddy's head lolled sideways into his touch, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth.

'I'm your Godfather, you know,' he continued quietly, 'And I promise to make your life as brilliant as possible. We're in the same boat, see – you and me. We've both got no parents… but I promise I'll always tell you stories of them, I -'

He stopped. Someone was shouting in the Entrance Hall. Shouting loud enough to cause people around him to stand up and crane their necks, trying to see the culprit. The voice grew louder and Harry felt a sickening wave of cold dread wash over him as he recognised it.

'WHAT THE RUDDY HELL DID YOU BRING US HERE FOR?'

Harry groaned and closed his eyes, praying with all his might that the perpetrator wouldn't come into the Great Hall.

'I WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS, YOU HEAR? TAKE US BACK!'

Muffled voices followed the outburst, trying to calm the man down, trying to make him see reason. But the man either could not or would not understand, for he appeared at the door of the Great Hall, his piggy eyes alert and furious, vein throbbing in his forehead, his face a wonderful shade of puce. His small eyes darted around the hall before coming to rest on Harry.

'You,' he said dangerously, just as his wife and son came to peer around his large frame.

Harry took a deep breath and looked up at the three people he thought, hoped, he'd never see in this setting.

'Uncle Vernon.'

**To be continued…**

A/N: Thank you for reading the first instalment of my story, I hoped you liked it! I don't know when I'll next be able to update as school starts next week (joy), but I'll do my best! :)

Care to tell me what you think? You know what to do! Constructive criticism always appreciated.


	2. Theft In The Gene Pool

Disclaimer: Check my pockets… empty - that's what I thought, therefore I can't be JKR and cannot possibly own the Harry Potter universe… unless someone else is carrying my money for me…

A/N: I am so sorry! For anyone that cares, I've been really busy with school stuff and other crap like that and so haven't had the time or energy to update. Mix that up with a bit of writer's block and you have one frustrated authorette. On a happier note, I'm updating now so… :D

Thank you to all reviewers, story/author alertees, people who put this as a favourite story or me as a favourite author, and to all the people that read this. You're the best!

The first couple of lines in _italics_ are a recap from the previous chapter.

Again, all mistakes are mine… this time with no beta pre-checks as I didn't have the patience to wait for Aidan to get his butt in motion. ;)

So, here we go – chapter 2 of Muggles, Fan Mail and Metamorphmagus Werewolves, a little bit later than I expected, but… enjoy!

**Muggles, Fan Mail and Metamorphmagus Werewolves  
Chapter 2: Theft in the Gene Pool**

'_You,' he said dangerously, just as his wife and son came to peer around his large frame._

_Harry took a deep breath and looked up at the three people he thought, hoped, he'd never see in this setting._

'_Uncle Vernon.'_

People surrounding Harry gasped, hearing how he'd addressed the new arrival - whispering incredulously to their friends and the people beside them. The news seemed to spread like wild fire, searing across the room until the whole hall knew of the connection between Harry and the strange family standing in the doorway.

Uncle Vernon's moustache bristled as he eyed Harry with the dislike Harry had become accustomed to; oblivious to the attention he was getting from the other occupants of the hall.

'So,' he growled, 'You did this!'

The room went silent, every ear straining to hear what was being said; hundreds of eyes flickering between the pair, giving the impression they were watching a very uncoordinated tennis match.

'What are you talking about? Did what?' Harry asked, wondering what he'd supposed to have done this time.

'You brought us here!' Uncle Vernon yelled, causing the onlookers to jump, 'You brought us here, you take us back! Take us back home! I knew you were lying from the beginning, boy, all this rubbish about Lord Voldy-whatsit! It was all a lie, wasn't it? It was all a plan to get us out of the house!'

Harry stared at him, mouth agape. Apparently, even after all this time, even after all the evidence there was, Uncle Vernon still didn't believe him. He glanced at his Aunt and cousin, who were still peaking out from behind his Uncle's bulky form. His Aunt's pale eyes were darting around the room as though expecting something to attack, his cousin fearfully edging towards the wall so he could put his back to it.

'I don't want your house!' he said incredulously after a beat.

'Well… take us back home then,' stated Vernon stubbornly.

'I can't! I've not been there since the day you left – I don't know what's happened to it! There could be Death Eaters or… curses -'

'Ha! You've done something, haven't you?' Uncle Vernon interrupted, 'You've used your… thing.' Somewhere behind Harry, Ron snorted.

'I've not done anything to your house!' Harry said loudly. Unfortunately, Teddy chose this point to cry out, startled by his tone. The family of three all stared down at the baby in his arms, noticing for the first time that there was a baby there. Uncle Vernon's face changed from astonishment to comprehension to malice, before his family could recover from shock.

'So,' he said finally, his tone deadly, 'this is what you've been doing. Telling us a cock and bull story about a murderer to get us out of the house, so you and your knocked up girlfriend could stay there!' The vein in his forehead was pulsing rapidly, his voice getting louder with every word he spoke.

'What!' Harry yelped, his disbelief barely audible over the excited whispers that now filled the hall.

'Which one is it then?' he said, peering nastily at the people surrounding him, 'who's the mother? Because I'm telling you now, boy, you'll be hearing from my lawyer!'

'What are you talking about?!' Uncle Vernon ignored him.

'Or maybe,' he mused to himself, 'maybe you did it in our house. Yes, yes that's it, we've been gone for long enough…' his piggy eyes fixed on Harry and the room grew silent once more. 'So, you showed a girl 'round our house pretending it was yours, did you?'

Harry's jaw hung open slackly as he gazed at his uncle in disbelief. Anger flooded through him at his Uncle's incompetence; seeping from the pit of his stomach to his feet and the tips of his hair. Almost 17 years of pent-up anger at his 'family' was dangerously near boiling point, their 'crimes' flickering through his head like a tape on fast-forward.

'Yeah,' he said, his mouth savouring the word, dripping with sarcasm, 'that's right. A few muggle girls in the neighbourhood, you know? Yeah I reckon it works best on them. All I have to say is: Hi! My name is Harry James Potter and I'm a wizard. Wanna see some magic?'

Uncle Vernon sputtered while the rest of the hall was flavoured with giggles.

'Of course,' Harry continued, tone ragged, voice rising, eyes almost penetrating his Uncle's, 'I always have to let them know that every single moment they spend with me puts them and their family in danger. That at any moment dark wizards could appear out of thin air and destroy everyone on their family tree, every one of their friends! That's been known to put them off,' he spat finally.

Harry was fuming; almost shaking with rage - he hadn't felt this angry in a very long time... he'd forgotten what a release it was.

'Ah-hah, so you admit it!' said Uncle Vernon triumphantly.

Harry closed his eyes and let out a long sigh, through gritted teeth, seemingly oblivious to his Uncle's continuous snide remarks: '... get you for breaking and entering and driving us out of the house. I hope they put you in a padded cell, boy - that's all you're good for. You don't even think about escaping! I'll make sure..."

Harry blocked out his Uncle's tirade and instead focused his attention on the little bundle in his arms. Teddy was squirming in his lap, frowning in discomfort. Issuing low wails which Harry had a feeling would turn into full-on screaming if he didn't do something soon. Luckily Mrs. Tonks seemed to share his sentiments and she rushed forward to relieve him of his weeping burden. He thanked her under his breath and stood up.

Pulling himself up to his full height, he strode towards his Uncle purposefully. Over the months he, Ron and Hermione had been away he had grown a couple more inches; so it was with a slight condescending air that he walked up to his shorter ex-guardian, revelling in the 10cm height difference.

Uncle Vernon was cataloguing his every move, calculating it warily for any sign of attack. Harry stopped and stared down at his Uncle. After a few moments of silence in which the whole hall seemed to hold it's breath, Harry spoke in a slow, somewhat monotonous voice.

'I have not been to your house in months, I didn't put any curses on it and I definitely didn't have a child there. Why would I even do that? All the happy memories…?'

'Then how can you exp-?'

'Teddy,' Harry said loudly across his Uncle, 'is my Godson. He's a metamorphmagus, which means he can change his appearance at will. He copied my appearance.'

Vernon sputtered, trying and failing to find another "crime" committed by his nephew.

'So,' Harry continued shortly, 'what are you doing here?'

Uncle Vernon squinted at him as though trying to see his question in the air around his head. Harry could almost see the cogs turning in his Uncle's head, trying to figure out why he was there.

'Those authors you sent us with,' he said finally, 'they had to come here, so we had to come too.' His voice was clipped, moustache bristling at the thought of people thinking him incompetent.

'What? Authors...? Oh, you mean Aurors! Wait - they're here?' Harry's frowning eyes darted past his vast Uncle, as though expecting to see Deadalus Diggle and Heista Jones standing in his shadow. When this was not the case, however, he turned his gaze back over his Uncle, who was frowning at a couple of weedy looking first years sitting at the Hufflepuff table.

Turning his attention back to his nephew, Vernon grunted in the affirmative and glowered at him, obviously thinking that the people Harry sent to 'protect' him and his family with weren't nearly respectable enough. Harry raised his eyebrows in response and looked wearily down at his Uncle, anger dissipating in the wake of lethargy.

'Well, you're here now, so… well - there's nothing I can do about it,' he sighed, resigned, turning his back on the three and walking over to sit next to Hermione; staring at the empty plate at his place jadedly.

Unobtrusive sighs and groans erupted all around the hall; many of his peers seemed to have been looking forward to a full-on fight. His Aunt spluttered.

'What…?' she said breathlessly, 'you can't leave us in this… this place!'

'I'm staying here, so, technically, I'm not leaving you anywhere. And anyway, didn't you once want to be here…?' Harry looked over at Petunia. Her thin face was contorted with shock and grief, mouth moving soundlessly as if she was whispering fluidly under her breath. She looked fragile. Not just her body – for once it seemed her mind was breakable too… her unyielding façade slipping for a moment…

Harry broke her gaze and went back to examining his plate. 'You're safer here,' he said softly to the reflective gold surface, watching himself as he did so.

He could feel his Aunt's stare for a moment, but when he looked up she had turned to her husband.

'Well? You heard him! We're safer here.' She said to Vernon, her tone just short of her usually brisk tenor. Uncle Vernon gawped at her and appeared to choke slightly on his tongue.

'B-But, Petunia… dear-?'

'No, Vernon.' She took a tentative seat at the Gryffindor table, a couple of spaces apart from everyone else on either side, and looked pointedly at her husband whom had remained standing.

'We'll just have to make the best of it.' A ghost of a smile played over her lips.

**To be continued…**

A/N: I'll try to update sooner this time – I have a day off school tomorrow (I'm sick) and a long weekend so that might be possible… maybe… :S


	3. Boarding School With Girls Has Its Merit

Disclaimer: Yeah… no. Just no. If you think so, you're wrong.

A/N: I am so sorry! Truly I am! You have no idea how busy I've been (Higher Exams – aaaaaargh!) – and I know everyone says that, but in my case, it's the blatant truth. Siriusly. (:P)

This is dedicated to my wonderful beta Aidan, who's birthday it was a wee while ago and who was my Secret Santa. :) So Happy Birthday/Merry Christmas Aidan! ;P I should probably also say that he has been trying to get me to finish this chapter for ages, but as I have told you all before: I'm stubborn and bent in my ways (and I had loads of homework and other crap to do so…). He hasn't actually beta-ed this so mistakes are definitely all mine this time… ;)

So on with my v. late chapter then… (if anyone's still reading this piece of crap… doubt it to be frank – people probably got sick of waiting) :S. As always, reviewers are cool and the recap is in _italics_.

Oh yeah… and Happy New Year everyone!

So, yeah – chapter 3…

**Muggles, Fan Mail and Metamorphmagus Werewolves  
Chapter 3: Boarding School With Girls Has Its Merits**

'_No, Vernon.' She took a tentative seat at the Gryffindor table, a couple of spaces apart from everyone else on either side, and looked pointedly at her husband whom had remained standing._

'_We'll just have to make the best of it.' A ghost of a smile played over her lips._

Vernon stood gaping at his wife as she straightened the plates and cutlery around her, trying to make it look more uniform. She turned and looked pointedly up at her husband and down to the seat next to her, uttering his name sharply under her breath.

Vernon didn't move.

He seemed to have gone into a kind of shock. As though seeing his normally doting wife with a backbone scared him slightly… at least enough to make him re-think the situation before opening his mouth. Harry could almost see his brain working behind his throbbing vein: calculating the number of witnesses to this strange event, wondering how many heard him and his wife's exchange, wondering if he could sell them drills…

'Vernon!' Aunt Petunia said again, her eyes wide, her "don't let the neighbours hear" expression in place.

After a moment, in which Uncle Vernon looked menacingly at the people closest to him – daring them to say anything about the sudden change in control, he sat down. Looking slightly panicked, the wordless Dudley hurriedly took a place next to Harry.

Feeling the bench move a bit less than usual under his cousin's weight (well, rather than the tectonic movement he expected), Harry turned his head to look at him. He'd changed – that was obvious. His face was a bit thinner and his blonde hair was longer, making him appear less childlike. His massive bulk had also decreased, although he still took up more that one designated place at the table.

Dudley squirmed under his inspection and Harry looked away, trying to find something interesting that could hold his attention away from his cousin. Nothing could, so he looked back.

Dudley was awkwardly picking at something on his wrist, not meeting anyone's gaze. People around him were eyeing him curiously, as though expecting some incredible circus trick they were scared they would miss out on if they looked away. Harry caught Hermione's eye, silently asking advice. She gave him a look, reminiscent of Mrs Weasley that clearly said 'talk to him' and looked away. Glancing at Ron, whose face showed only bewilderment, he turned to Dudley who was still picking animatedly at his wrist.

'So, Dud,' Harry started awkwardly, his eyes straining to look at his face but being distracted by the movement of his fingers, 'How have you… what are you doing?'

'Huh? Oh, I have a scar. It's itchy.'

'You have a… what?' asked Harry, frowning.

'A scar. Well, a scab… kinda, I dunno. It's pretty big. I mean, not as big as yours, but…' Dudley trailed off, looking at Harry's forehead.

'My scar…? Which one?' Harry said, sighing, his tone resigned.

Dudley frowned, looking confused, shaking his blonde head slightly.

'You have more than one?'

'Yeah, things like attacking me and leaving marks. If it isn't an evil wizard it's a snake, or a crazy bitch -' (Hermione tutted) '- with a quill, or… jewellery…' said Harry distractedly, playing with a fork on the table.

'What did the locket do to you?' Ron asked in surprise.

'It fused to my skin, Ron. You would have seen the mark when you pulled me out of the pond,' Harry replied, incredulous disbelief playing on his features.

'I'm sorry!' said Ron sarcastically, 'I was a little preoccupied with saving your life! I mean, honestly - what kind of plonker jumps into a pond wearing a necklace?!'

Harry scowled 'At least it didn't have 'My Sweetheart' on it.'

Ron gawped at him, aghast, before giving in to the smile tugging at his lips. Staring at each other, Harry and Ron both started to snigger at their inside joke.

'I got maggots,' said Harry through his laughter.

It was like a dam inside of them broke as their laughter grew. A dam that had been built up over the past few months by guilt and fear; a dam that had now, finally, been broken by a surge of relief, of freedom.

And so they laughed. Growing until it was almost hysterical, their amusement at a triviality no one but them could understand was acknowledged. After all, it has always been easier to laugh than to cry…

Hermione looked between them, confused, as their laughter died down, before tutting and muttering under her breath. Something about 'tact' and 'boys'. Dudley looked even more confused, as though he was still attempting to work out what they'd said a few minutes ago and was working furiously to get up to the point they'd reached.

But just as Dudley opened his mouth, presumably to ask about their laughing exchange, a distraction appeared in the form of Parvati.

'Harry!' she called wearily, approaching their section of the long table. Her usually sleek hair was lank and dirty and a chunk was missing from one side. Her clothes were filthy and scorched and ripped in places, showing sores and blisters on her usually flawless skin. 'I just wanted to say thanks,' she began, upon reaching their seats, 'to all of you.' she gestured around the table at Ron and Hermione, 'I didn't really get a chance to this morning, cooped up in the hospital wing-'

'You don't have to-' Harry began, before realising her full comment and instinctively checking her over with his eyes. 'Why were you in the hospital wing? Are you hurt?'

'No. It's my sister. Oh – she's okay,' she said hurriedly, answering the unspoken question on the trio's lips', 'well – she's okay now at least. The curse was pretty tricky, but one of the other patients had seen it before so he knew what to do, thank Merlin.'

'So she's okay?' asked Hermione, with a hint of worry in her voice.

'Yeah, she's fine. Oh – she says thanks too, by the way.' Parvati replied, smiling.

'You don't need to thank us – we didn't do anything-'

'Yes. You did, Harry. Especially you. What you did was amazing. You got rid of You-Know-Who and you taunted him – that's practically everyone's dream!'

Dudley muttered something too quiet to hear beside him, disbelief playing on his features. Harry turned to look at him, frowning, before turning to answer Parvati.

'It wasn't just me – it was everyone-'

'Stop being so bloody modest Harry!' spat Ron, but he was smiling an affectionate half-grin towards the friend he was addressing, shaking his head a little at his typical behaviour.

Harry opened his mouth to retaliate, but Hermione cut across him, forcing him to bite-back his reply.

'Honestly, you'd think after killing You-Know-Who his attitude would be a little more supercilious,' she said to Parvati, smiling at the frowning Harry affectionately.

'Super-what?' asked Ron, his face screwed up in disgust at her word choice.

'Supercilious.'

'Which means…?'

'For Merlin's sake, Ronald! You should read more – then you'll have a higher understanding threshold!' said Hermione, sighing resignedly. 'It means arrogant, condescending, disdainful – do you understand now?!'

'Yes, yes – okay! Calm down!' said Ron, his eyes wide and fearful, his hands out in front of him to protect him from her wrath. Hermione smirked.

'Er…' began Parvati, not sure what to make of their exchange.

'Yeah…' Harry said slowly, nodding his head along to her awkwardness.

'Anyway, guys – I should probably go back up to the hospital wing – I said I wouldn't be too long. Padma doesn't really want to be left alone in the hospital wing – it keeps reminding her that she's sick,' said Parvati, chuckling at her twin's views and beginning to walk away backwards. 'Bye! Thanks again!' she said smiling.

'Bye Parvati!' 'I hope Padma's okay!' 'Bye!' the trio replied, their own messages getting tangled up in each other's as they replied almost simultaneously.

Parvati laughed and waved as she turned and made her way back up the hall.

Dudley watched her walk away.

'She goes to your school?' he asked, drawing their attention to his antics and where exactly his eyes were fixed.

'Er… yeah. Why?' asked Harry frowning, looking around at Ron and Hermione for backup.

Dudley turned towards them as Parvati disappeared out the oak doors. 'But you go to boarding school…' he said slowly.

'Yeah…?' replied Harry, just as slowly, frowning.

'You mean,' said Dudley, his eyes lighting up with envy, 'girls go to your school! To your boarding school!'

'Yeah – did you not know that?'

'No…'

'You must have! Who did you think "Hermione" was?' asked Harry, scowling.

'Who's that?'

Harry looked at him, disbelieving. He had mentioned Hermione, hadn't he? In all those years with the Dursleys, he had to have mentioned her. And yet, here was his cousin, denying he had ever heard of her.

'I'm Hermione,' said the girl herself, biting her lip.

'I told you about Hermione,' said Harry, adamant he had mentioned her.

'Maybe… I dunno, you didn't really talk about your friends much…' said Dudley, now facing the table.

'Well…' Harry began, but not quite sure how to finish, grimaced and looked apologetically at Ron and Hermione. Trying to tell them with his eyes that had he lived with people who cared for him, they would have been a main topic of conversation. They seemed to understand for they smiled uncomfortable smiles and jerked their heads downwards in understanding.

'That must be amazing…' muttered Dudley under his breath.

'What?' asked Harry distractedly, turning away from his best friends of whom his "family" knew nothing.

Dudley looked at him; looking for the first time as if he felt overshadowed by his cousin.

'Are you on a team? Like a sports team?' he asked finally, confusing Harry with the drastic change in conversation topic.

'Yeah...' he said slowly, 'Quidditch team. Well, at least I was when I was at school...'

'Quid-ditch?'

'It's – the wizarding world's football – sport played on broomstick. Seven players, four balls, three hoops,' said Harry, almost automatically.

'Right. Are you any good?' questioned Dudley, quite obviously not completely understanding the concept of Quidditch.

'Are you joking?!' burst Ron, 'are you seriously asking Harry if he's good at Quidditch?! The Captain – the youngest Quidditch player in a century and you're asking if he's good?!'

'Wh-what?' Dudley stuttered, getting confused with Ron's sarcasm-riddled question.

'Ronald!' Hermione stated, tutting. 'Dudley's a muggle – he doesn't know all that!' She turned to Dudley, smiling, 'Harry's very good at Quidditch – he's been on the team since his first week at Hogwarts and last year he was appointed Captain. They won the cup.'

'Yeah, even though I wasn't there to see it-'

'That was your own fault, Harry! You got detention!'

'Yes, thanks, I know! No need to remind me…'

'Do you get detention a lot?' asked Dudley, again looking genuinely curious.

'Er… yeah, I suppose so, why?'

'Nothing, it's just… you're good at Qui-Quit-Qu… sport and you get in trouble a lot? Don't girls like that kind of thing?' his face was screwed up in, what looked like discomfort as he tried to get his point across.

'Er…' Harry stuttered as Ron started to snigger, his mouth forming words unspoken. 'I-I-uh…'

'I mean, come on – back home girls love that kinda stuff! They always love the ones that get into trouble lots - well, as long as they aren't complete bastards – and the sporty ones are always surrounded by tonnes of the really hot girls…' Dudley ranted, trailing off, 'Is that the same for you?'

'Er…' Harry started again, not sure how to finish.

Hermione giggled and Harry shot her a pathetic glare.

'Yes.'

'Really?' Dudley enquired, looking at Hermione in jealous awe.

'Yeah,' Hermione continued, grinning, 'Well,' she glanced at Harry, giggling, 'Especially last year, girls were all over him. Pining after him, watching him fly, trying to force love potion down his throat without him noticing…'

'Wait – "love potion"?' Dudley enquired, looking sceptical.

Hermione made an agreeable noise in her throat through her giggles and nodded. Dudley's mouth almost fell open as he gazed at her in amazement.

'You mean,' he began in barely over a whisper, 'I could get any of these girls to fall in love with me? To do anything for me…with just a little bit of potion…?'

The trio looked at each other, smirks tugging on the corners of their lips, as Dudley gazed into the distance, eyes glassy.

'It's not real love, Dud,' said Harry, looking away from his friends and thumping his cousin on the back, smiling.

Over his shoulder Harry saw his Aunt watching him with an odd expression on her face. He jerked his eyes away to face the table, without turning his head.

After a few seconds, he looked back from beneath his eyelashes, trying to inspect them without their noticing. His Aunt was straightening cutlery again; the faint pink gracing her cheeks the only indication she felt at all awkward about their brief exchange. Beside her, he could see his Uncle's piggy eyes darting around him as though waiting for someone to attack.

He looked away.

'So?' asked Dudley stubbornly, carrying on the conversation, 'It doesn't matter if it's real love, does it?'

'What?'

'You just – get what you want, and then stop giving the potion to her.'

'Well, that's hardly fair on her is it?' said Ron with a quick glance at Hermione, 'I mean – it – it's wrong – you – you'd be taking advantage of her and that – wouldn't be… right…'

Harry looked at him, eyebrows raised while Hermione beamed at him for his mature response. Dudley continued, face screwed up as though this much thinking pained him.

'But have you ever thought about it? Slipping someone really hot love potion? I mean,' he looked around the room, 'You'd have a lot to choose from around here, there's a lot of hot ones…' his eyes settled on a redhead not sitting too far from them, 'Wow, look at her. God, she's hot.'

The trio turned to look and Harry's mouth dropped open. Ginny. He had a sudden urge to rip Dudley limb-from-limb for looking at her in that way. The monster in his chest raised its head from hibernation and growled in appreciation as he imagined making Dudley's old tail reappear. But that feeling died down almost as soon as it arrived… Ginny didn't need his protection… but Dudley might.

Ron turned slowly round to face Dudley, looking murderous. Dudley flinched back from his glower.

'What? Is she your girlfriend?' he asked misinterpreting his glare.

'No. She's my little sister, you git!'

'Ron! It's not like he knew!' Hermione intervened.

'So?!' Ron said stubbornly, almost pouting.

Harry snickered and regretted it instantly as Ron's attention focused on him.

'Why aren't you defending her?!'

'She can defend herself – she told me enough times at least. Besides,' he continued, trying to be reasonable, 'It's not like he's going to do anything about it… he's just saying she looks…nice…' his voice strained and he grimaced, 'And she does.'

He could feel Hermione looking at him sympathetically from his right, but he looked at the table and didn't meet her gaze.

'But you dated her?! Do you not like her at all?!'

Dudley gasped, 'You dated her?! Really?!' at Harry's nod he continued, 'Wow! How far did you go?'

Harry grimaced. He knew Dudley had just made a very big mistake… he could almost feel the anger radiating off Ron in front of him. Suddenly there was a movement from his right and Ron yelped. Hermione nudged him.

'Answer him,' she whispered.

'Which one?' he muttered sceptically back.

'Both!'

'Okay, Ron, first of all,' he lowered his voice although she was out of earshot, 'Of course I still like her, but so much has happened… I dunno… Dudley, to answer your question, we… kissed in broom cupboards… and… did-some-other-stuff, so-'

'Hang on – "other stuff"?' asked Ron, his eyes narrowed.

Harry's mouth was suddenly very dry.

'Yeah…?'

'What kind of "other stuff"?'

'Just…' Harry began awkwardly, inspecting one of the candle brackets on the wall, 'other… things… nothing - nothing really – nothing – no,' he shook his head.

Ron opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Dudley asked the worst question he could have in the vicinity of Ginny's youngest brother: 'Did you fuck her?'

'What?!' Harry yelped looking wildly at the three faces around him, each showing different sentiments towards the direction the conversation headed: curiosity, anger and disbelief. 'No!'

'Really?' inquired Ron murderously.

'I swear,' he replied, his hands stretched out in front of him.

'So what did you do…?' asked Ron suspiciously.

'Well,' began Hermione, talking over Ron and saving Harry from any more awkwardness, 'Now that's settled…'

Ron looked distinctly ruffled at being interrupted trying to gauge what happened between Harry and Ginny the previous year. He opened his mouth to say something, but his words were never heard.

Far above their heads they heard a high-pitched screech.

Everyone in the room, as though in was one collective movement, jumped, startled from the sudden noise. Some getting out wands and looking up towards the ceiling, standing rigid and ready for attack. Harry, Ron and Hermione were among these few and were first out of their seats.

After a few seconds of absolute silence, the room began to fill.

**To be continued…**

A/N: Ooh… cliffhanger… kinda... ;) I will try and update in the next two weeks – I have a six day holiday after my prelims so I should be able to manage it. :) I would also like to take this opportunity to mention that this chapter is almost three-thousand-one-hundred words… the longest chapter I've ever written… xD

Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome.


	4. Unexpected Paper Cuts

Disclaimer: Don't be thick.

A/N: Woop! (Kinda) on time! Fastest. Update. Ever. (for me… shhh… :P)

Yes, I am evil… muwahaha! :P Sorry for the cliffhanger guyth… well, no, actually, I'm not sorry. I thought more people would review because of it… apparently my long absence put people off… damn.

As always: my beta is amazing, so all mistakes are mine; reviewers/story alert-ers/story favourite-ers/author alert-ers/author favourite-ers/readers are extremely cool and do not deserve to be shot; and recap is in _italics_. Oh, and sorry it's so short. :S

So on with the show!

**Muggles, Fan Mail and Metamorphmagus Werewolves  
Chapter 4: Unexpected Paper Cuts**

_Far above their heads they heard a high-pitched screech._

_Everyone in the room, as though in was one collective movement, jumped, startled from the sudden noise. Some getting out wands and looking up towards the ceiling, standing rigid and ready for attack. Harry, Ron and Hermione were among these few and were first out of their seats._

_After a few seconds of absolute silence, the room began to fill._

Hundreds of owls came swooping in from the ceiling. Differing in colour, elegance and size, and each carrying an envelope or package of some kind.

The silence in the hall continued as everyone seemed to hold their breath; straining their ears to ensure if there was danger, they'd know of it first. After several seconds of waiting for danger to appear, people seemed to accept that nothing else was coming, and so started to talk, a low hum of noise spreading throughout the hall.

Harry lowered his wand and took a deep breath, letting it seep through his parted lips slowly, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, almost everyone had sat back down on the long benches. Placing his unused wand next to his knife on the table, he hurriedly joined them.

'Well that was a whole lot of stress for nothing,' muttered Ron in front of him, sitting down, 'Bloody owls.'

Harry chuckled and wearily gazed at the swarm of owls that were circling the room, looking for their recipricant. Suddenly, a stern-looking barn owl dived towards him, leaving Harry barely enough time to throw himself against Hermione to get out of its path.

The owl dropped an envelope, face down, on his clean plate and flew out of the hall. Harry turned it over. On the front in large, childish letters was:

HaRRy PottER  
SavIouR of the WIzaRdIng WoRld

Harry stared at it for a moment, mouth open. Hermione looked over his shoulder and gasped.

'Harry,' she breathed, looking up at the remaining owls, whom were still swarming above, 'Maybe… maybe they're all for you…'

As if on cue, all the owls swooped down and dropped packages on his plate and into the food on the table in front of him.

'Why are you getting all these letters?' asked Dudley, picking up a scroll and examining it.

'Er…' stammered Harry.

''Cause he saved our arses for You Know Who,' said Seamus, sliding along the bench to join them, Dean just behind him.

'Who?' asked Dudley, frowning.

'You know…' began Seamus, making churning movements with his hands, obviously trying to speed up Dudley's thinking process.

It didn't work.

'Voldemort,' stated Harry, glancing at his cousin, then looking back at the envelope he still held in his hand.

'Oh, him,' said Dudley quietly.

'Yeah – him. Heard of him then?' asked Dean.

'Well,' Dudley started, loosely gesturing towards Harry, 'Yeah. I've kinda… heard about him… over the years…'

'Well, you don't have to hear about him anymore! 'Cause he's dead as a vampire eaten by wolves tonight!' burst Seamus, grinning and singing a few lines of a song Harry had never heard before.

'Hey, I remember that song…' said Ron, his eyes lighting up, 'Yeah – Bill really liked it. Isn't it by The Horntails?'

Harry, Dean, Hermione and (strangely) Dudley all looked at each other, completely lost due to their non-magic upbringing.

'Yeah – Conflict in the Coven by The Horntails – it's a great song.'

'Anyway…' began Dean, but before he could say anything else, Seamus cut across him.

'Yeah – lets open some of this – d'you need any help?' he asked Harry, already reaching for a small brown box.

'Er… sure. I'll just…' he waved the envelope he had been holding since the post arrived.

'Yeah, and I'll just…' Seamus waved the box he was holding, grinning.

Harry tore open the letter as Seamus attempted to open the box, which had obviously been magically sealed. The others, obviously remembering the boils Hermione had received the last time Harry got "fan" mail, seemed content to watch for now.

Harry pulled out the letter and unfolded it.

'Read it aloud,' Hermione urged.

'Er… okay,' he cleared his throat, 'Dear Harry Potter, thank you for making You Know Who go away. He was very mean. Me and my Mum have been hiding for ages with some other people, so it's nice to be able to get out again without maybe getting hurt. The first thing I'm going to do when I get home is eat ten ham sandwiches. They're my favourite and I haven't been able to have them in ages. You-' he stopped short, but Hermione nudged him, pressing him to continue. He sighed, 'You're my… hero… now, because you are really brave and you made it so I can now have ham sandwiches again. Thank you for being so brave. Love from John.'

Everyone was quiet; looking at the green, scribbled words on the parchment. Harry looked too, trying to imagine the little boy who wrote them and hoping with all his might that that boy received more than ten sandwiches when he got home. It was strange, he thought, to glimpse a part of someone else's life; someone's so young, someone's not so different…

'It's like fifth year all over again,' said Ron, grinning at him, bringing him back to consciousness. Harry smiled weakly back.

A shout of laughter came from Seamus, who had finally been able to open his box.

'Look at this! Merlin, Harry…'

**To Be Continued…**

A/N: Ha! :P Did you like what the cliffhanger turned out to be? How many of you thought it was Death Eaters seeking revenge, huh? Ahaha! xD

Okay, this story's obviously not finished yet, but I would like to reach 100 reviews by the end. If you want to help, you know what to do! Constructive criticism always appreciated.


	5. Provocative Pieces Of External Flair

Disclaimer: What?! Hell – I don't even own me! Apparently my parents do… --_-- Making me take Higher Maths *grumble* *grumble*…

A/N: Aidan = wonderful. Mistakes = mine. Recap = _italics._ People who do stuff with this story (uh…) = very cool.

Yeah… could you tell I couldn't be bothered? :P

Oh! – by the way – if you can, can you leave signed reviews? 'cause I like to reply. The ones I have gotten, though, have been very complimentary, so thanks. :)

Lights, camera, action!

**Muggles, Fan Mail and Metamorphmagus Werewolves  
Chapter 5: Provocative Pieces Of External Flair (And Their Synthesizing Properties)**

_A shout of laughter came from Seamus, who had finally been able to open his box._

'_Look at this! Merlin, Harry…'_

Harry turned and looked at Seamus. In his hands he held a small red bit of cloth. Harry frowned in confusion. Seamus smirked. Decanting the item into one hand, he slowly picked it up with his fingertips and stretched out the corners, allowing Harry - and everyone else - to see it more clearly.

Harry paled as everyone around him burst into laughter.

'And!' Seamus shouted over the noise, '...It's been worn!'

At this everyone succumbed to new peals of laughter. Seamus scrunched up the lace thong and threw it at Harry. Instinctively, he caught it only to drop it into his lap, grimacing. This caused everyone to laugh harder - Ron looking as though he would need some medical assistance in the near future - and reach for more of the of the, as yet unopened, parcels.

Harry stared down at the offending garment in his lap, scrutinising it from a distance.

'How do you know it's been worn?' Harry asked Seamus warily, lifting it up with his thumb and index finger.

Seamus raised his eyebrows, amused, 'Look inside,'

Harry peered cautiously into the folds of the fabric and quickly dropped the thong on the table, swearing loudly.

Unfortunately, this set the still giddy Ron off again, causing him to almost fall of his seat in mirth.

'Lets see,' said an eager Dean from across the table.

Picking up the corner of gingerly, Harry flung it at him.

'Nice!' he laughed, when he'd satisfied his curiosity.

'You don't think... these are all...' he muttered to Hermione, who looked up from reading a rather long letter.

'No,' she said, 'This one's from a...' she glanced at the signature at the bottom, 'Margret Nelson.'

Harry looked at her questioningly.

'She's 83,' she added.

Harry continued to eye her questioningly.

'Oh, for Merlin's sake, Harry!' she elbowed him and smiled, 'All this woman's said is that she's thankful for all you've done...' she sent a sly look at Harry from the corner of her eyes, 'And that if she was 60 years younger-'

'WHAT!?' Harry yelped, snatching the letter form Hermione's grasp as she giggled.

Harry read through the letter, turning slightly green, 'Old ladies shouldn't speak like that...' he said weakly.

'Most of them are just saying thanks - Hey! This one mentions us!' Ron gestured at himself and Hermione.

"What does it say?' she asked eagerly.

'Er... "thank you", blah, blah, blah... oh! Here it is - "also if you could extend my thanks to Miss Hermione Granger and Mr. Ronald Weasley, I would be grateful, as I believe they helped in the defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named...'Ron looked up, an excited grin spread widely across his face, 'Isn't that brilliant?!'

'Wow! Look at this!' Dean called down the table. Seamus leaned over his shoulder to look at the square of parchment Dean was holding. His eyes widened and he let out a low whistle. Curiosity getting the better of him, Ron snatched it from their grasp. His jaw dropped.

'Dear Merlin...'

'What? What is it?' asked Harry, slight urgency lacing his tone.

'It... I...' Ron shook his head and wordlessly passed the parchment to Harry.

It was a photograph. A rather inappropriate photograph, to be exact. Hermione looked over his shoulder and sniffed.

'She must be about thirty! What does she think she's doing sending a half-naked picture of herself to someone who's young enough to be her son?! Honestly!' she huffed, folding her arms. She glanced at Harry, who was still looking intently the photo, 'What are you doing?!'

'Hm?' He looked up. 'What? Oh, I…' his eyes slid back to the photo and glazed over, 'I just… didn't realize people could bend that way…' His head tilted to the side, viewing the picture from a different angle.

'Neither did I…' Ron's distant look disappeared when Hermione made a disgusted sound at the back of her throat and tore the picture from Harry's grasp, slipping it face down under a bowl of potatoes.

The boys seemed disheartened and mumbled something about jealousy that Hermione didn't quite hear, before returning to the mountain of parcels and scrolls before them. Dudley, still looking confused and slightly left out, joined in.

Harry reached for an envelope that was jutting out between two parcels. It was a thin muggle envelope, addressed in childish handwriting. Harry breathed a sigh of relief: it was safe. Or, at least, he could be almost positive that the contents weren't pornographic.

He ripped it open. Or tried at least. Unfortunately, it seemed to be one of those envelopes that had to be ripped open one centimeter at a time; one of those envelopes that had been licked so earnestly that the paper seemed permanently bonded together. Finally, methodically wrenching it open, he pulled out the contents. Inside there was a single sheet of paper; Harry unfolded it carefully.

It was a drawing. A picture of the artist next to a very tall stick-man with comically huge glasses and a green zig-zag down the centre of his face. It was him. And printed underneath the drawing, in far too neat a hand to be the child's own, were the words: My Hero. He smiled and looked carefully at the others around him, making sure they were all too engrossed in their own findings, before re-folding the picture and slipping it into the front pocket of his jeans.

…

Further down the table, Ginny reached for the potatoes. Lifting up the large bowl, she slipped the photo from under it. She had seen the uproar it and the underwear had caused and, although she had no interest in the thong, she was interested to see how this picture had held Harry's attention.

She turned it over and grimaced. Hermione had not been exaggerating when she said this woman was old enough to be Harry's mother. But her heart lightened as she saw the woman in question had long red hair…

**To Be Continued…**

A/N: Sorry guys, I know it's short – but it's a relatively fast update… does that make up for it? I've also been posting a few more new stories so… I think I've been doing pretty well, no? Anyway, reviews are nice so… yeah. Constructive crit is goood… :)


	6. Snape And A Mistake Of Sisterhood

Disclaimer: I'm too tired for this… meh… pick on someone your own size… (not mine)

A/N: Hi! So… new chapter. :) Sorry it's so late… :/ I've had a lot on my plate… hey that rhymes! :L Anyway… sorry. List of excuses: higher exams (which, for people who don't know, are v. v. V. important ); when I'm not doing them/revising I'm really tired… seriously – I can stay awake for about 9 hours and then I get tired :S; I've had literally a TON of art crap to do; and, to be honest, I could not be arsed. So… sorry. *_*

Dedicated to Cinnamon S​elkie who spoke to me for about an hour on msn (months ago :/)… you still awake? :L

Not all the usual rules apply. Mistakes are mine, not my amazing beta Aidan's, people whom read/review (etc) this are cool, but no recap. This chapter doesn't follow on directly from the last chapter – remember Ginny was looking at the photo? – instead it goes back to the boys and Hermione opening fan mail. That make sense? Hopefully…

Okay. I'm putting in a recap (in _italics_), 'cause I can't remember what just happened. It's of the bit from before Ginny looking at stuff. That better? Yeah… ;P

Once _up_on a time…

**Muggles, Fan Mail and Metamorphmagus Werewolves  
Chapter 6: Snape And A Mistake Of Sisterhood**

_He ripped it open. Or tried at least. Unfortunately, it seemed to be one of those envelopes that had to be ripped open one centimeter at a time; one of those envelopes that had been licked so earnestly that the paper seemed permanently bonded together. Finally, methodically wrenching it open, he pulled out the contents. Inside there was a single sheet of paper; Harry unfolded it carefully._

_It was a drawing. A picture of the artist next to a very tall stick-man with comically huge glasses and a green zig-zag down the centre of his face. It was him. And printed underneath the drawing, in far too neat a hand to be the child's own, were the words: My Hero. He smiled and looked carefully at the others around him, making sure they were all too engrossed in their own findings, before re-folding the picture and slipping it into the front pocket of his jeans._

Unfortunately, other children of the Wizarding World felt that he was their hero also, as all the people around him held up different drawings showing the same thing. Harry sighed. It seems nothing could be private, as someone else always would be thinking the same thing about him. This dosn't make sense, what are you trying to say?

The pile was slowly diminishing. Letters and boxes being opened to reveal hand knitted scarves; letters of thanks; a few more unwanted photos and a single rose that made Harry squirm.

But amongst those, there was a single letter that contradicted all previous. Hate mail. It was Hermione that had found it, somewhere near the bottom of the pile. It was thin and normal-looking, but it held Harry's worst fear. It said he hadn't been quick enough; someone's whole family had died and, before they could happily become to death too, Voldemort was.

Hermione burned it before he could read it again, saying that the person was just sad and wanted to blame someone that was still alive, that they could still "get" to. But Harry knew the truth. He hadn't been quick enough. If he had been, there would be nine Weasleys sitting at the table…

Dudley looked confused. Still.

'Why are you getting all this?' he asked Harry quietly, indicating the mail.

Harry looked up and opened his mouth to answer, but he didn't know what to say. What should he tell him? That he killed the most evil man ever to exist? Technically he had killed himself. Should he, then, tell him that he had disarmed the most evil man that ever existed? He supposed that wouldn't really explain why he was getting lots of mail. Disarming someone isn't that hard, not that Dudley would know that.

'I… didn't die,' he decided on, 'Well, I lived,' he corrected himself – he wanted to be truthful.

Dudley frowned. 'Why does that mean you get lots of letters?'

Hermione, who had obviously heard their conversation, answered for him. 'He defeated Voldemort. That's why he's getting letters – people are thankful.' She looked at Harry, trying to emphasise with her eyes that everyone knew he'd done all that he could. Excluding that one person. Harry looked away from her. She was wrong.

'Voldemort…?' asked Dudley slowly, 'The one who killed your parents.' It wasn't a question. Harry supposed he'd heard a lot about Voldemort being around Aurors for nine months… or at least "You-Know-Who". He wondered if Dedalus or Hestia had mentioned him…

He hoped they hadn't. People seemed to be far too boastful of his "accomplishments", and far too eager to retell them for Harry's liking.

'Defeated…? Like, killed?' It wasn't really a question, just phrased as such, but Harry nodded anyway. To his plate; not willing to meet his cousin's eyes. 'Wow…'

Harry looked up. Dudley's face was full of wonder and a ghost of an astonished smile played around his lips. Harry couldn't help himself: he chuckled.

'Shut up! It's not every day you find out your scrawny cousin killed someone,' retorted Dudley, somehow flushing and laughing at the same time.

Harry scowled at his cousin, and opened his mouth to challenge the "scrawny" comment; but his eyes bypassed him and instead locked on his Aunt, who was staring at him with wide eyes.

But her eyes were unfocussed, as if she was looking but not seeing, or seeing something no one else could. She winced and convulsed once as if someone had squeezed her heart, tears brimming and spilling from her eyes.

Harry couldn't look away. Vaguely he was aware of people eyeing him curiously, and following his eyes to his Aunt, who was brushing the tears away swiftly with her fingertips.

'Voldemort,' she whispered. The name sounded familiar on her lips, and she looked fearful, like she knew what he could do. Harry was suddenly immensely curious as to what had been in the letter Dumbledore had given her with him when he was a baby. 'You…? He's gone?'

Vernon was looking at her as if she'd just sprouted tentacles, and Harry had to bite back a laugh as he nodded. Why must he have the urge to laugh at the most inappropriate times?

'For good?' Petunia sighed and looked down as he nodded again, seeming to revel in the confirmation. Then her face split into the most sincere grin Harry had ever seen on her lips. Her face seemed to fill out and look less bony, making her look years younger; he was suddenly reminded of the little blonde girl from Snape's memories…

Her smile dropped, but the happiness stayed in her eyes as she asked, 'How?'

Harry sighed, suddenly very weary once more, and rubbed his eyes with his fingers; his glasses cutting into the bridge of his nose as he pushed them aside with his knuckles.

'Er,' he began, not sure where to begin, 'Well… Voldemort wanted to split his soul into seven bits, eh, he thought it would make him stronger, immortal. But, when he tried to kill me, the spell kind of… backfired? I dunno, but basically he accidently split his soul into eight bits. Er… yeah, when you split your soul you have to put that bit into an object. It can be just about anything, I think, living or dead or something that was never alive. But the eight bit of soul was in me, so when he tried to kill me… again, it didn't work.' All through this explanation, Harry had been examining his fork, not comfortable meeting his Aunts eyes. It was hard to tell this story to someone who had very little knowledge of the Wizarding World, especially considering it had only happened just over twelve hours ago.

Everyone around the table seemed to have leant in to hear the story, holding their breath as it was told and exhaling simultaneously in one big gust in Harry's face. From the corner of his eye, his Aunt looked confused.

'So…?'

'So I didn't die, well I did, but it didn't work properly and I was able to come back Voldemort-free 'cause the bit of his soul that was in me had died. And then, since all the other bits of him were destroyed, I could do this weird thing with the Elder Wand 'cause it can't be beaten and… well there was this whole bit about wand ownership, but basically he tried to kill me but couldn't beat the wand so it backfired.' He took one look at his Aunt and cousin and said, 'It's a bit complicated.'

Petunia nodded and half got out of her seat, moving awkwardly down the bench until she was sitting next to her son. Vernon, looking startled and terrified that his wife had left him sitting alone in this strange place, tried to follow, but his massive bulk prevented him from moving down the bench as his wife had. He clambered off the bench, grasping the table for support and walked the one and a half paces to where his wife sat and, after a bit of a struggle, sat next to her.

Petunia, obviously noticing this disruption, pretended not to see it, and instead asked Harry a question he thought he would never hear from her lips. Not because it was a strange question, but because it was his Aunt.

'I heard quite a bit about Severus Snape while we were in hiding, do you know what happened to him? I heard he killed Dumbledore…'

Harry was so thoroughly taken aback by the question that he looked up from his empty plate and stared at her in shock for a few seconds. As soon as he had composed himself, he answered, 'Voldemort killed him.'

Aunt Petunia closed her eyes and breathed out. When she opened them they were full of sadness for the man she had hated as a child.

'He killed everyone.'

'Well, not everyone.'

'No, but he killed everyone I knew… or had known…'

'To be fair, that was only three people.' His Aunt looked up at him and chuckled sadly, nodding slightly.

'Sometimes you remind me so much of Lily,' Harry inhaled a little sharply, but hid it with a small cough. She had never spoken his mother's name before… it was odd, he decided, like a complete mixture of emotions. Sadness. Love. Jealousy. Admiration. He supposed that was why she had never mentioned her name in the past: she could not hide her real feelings in that name. 'Her sense of humour was a bit like yours when she got older. You know,' she continued rather slyly, in the way that Mrs Weasley announces she's secretly made a large cake for everyone, 'Snape used to live very near Lily and I… he was the one that told her she was a witch!

'I remember hating him so much because he was taking my little sister away from me. We were always so close, but the news of what she was tore us apart,' she sighed and shook her head, looking away, 'That's not true. I tore us apart – my reaction to it all. I was… jealous, I suppose. Well, I don't suppose, I know. She was just always so… I don't – I don't know… loved? Worshiped? Perfect? I… I could never compete, but somehow that was okay. She was book-smart and pretty and kind, but, when I was with her, people praised me too. Like I was a parent. I could teach her things and I would revel in the fact she was book-smart because I knew I had taught her some of the things she knew – the gift of being an older sister. But then she got her letter,' her voice seemed to involuntarily become both sad and hostile, 'And I knew I couldn't teach her anything to do with magic because I didn't know it. This was one adventure she would have without me and that hurt. She used to go off with Snape to learn more about the Wizarding World. I would follow her – I'm not proud of it – but I would. But Snape always had a thing for her, he always wanted to be alone with her, and one time they caught me watching them. He got angry and made a branch break off a tree and land on my arm. Lily yelled at him and said she wasn't his friend anymore, but she went back to him eventually… apparently my broken arm wasn't enough to come between them.'

She looked up. Whatever reaction she had been expecting, Harry nodding knowingly wasn't it.

'I know,' he said, 'I saw Snape's memory of it.'

It was Dudley, this time, who asked what the hell he was talking about. He had been eyeing his mother with blatant disbelief at the calm manner in which she was discussing both her sister and magic, when another unbelievable point was raised. 'What?' he asked, his face scrunched up, trying to make sense of what his cousin had just said.

'You watched his memory…?' Petunia asked, frowning.

'Yeah, you can watch peoples memories in a pensive… er… never mind,' he waved off her unvoiced questions with his hand.

She laughed once and shook her head. "I guess I never really gave your world – her world – a chance-"

'Good thing too,' said Vernon whispering loudly, speaking up for the first time since their seating change, 'She was a freak! They all are. It's not normal! It's just not ruddy normal to wave a stick around and expect something to happen. They're all freaks…' his beady eyes twitched round the room.

Harry's mouth was hanging open, but before he could say anything, his Aunt cut across him.

'Lily wasn't a freak, she was my sister!' she turned on Vernon, 'And you have no right to say she was!' a tear ran down her cheek and she brushed it away furiously.

Harry was pleased to see his uncle looking thrown for the millionth time and decided to make him feel a little worse. He knew it was wrong, but, somehow, it felt so right.

'Besides,' he said with a slightly manic smile on his face, 'Here it's you who's not normal.' He glanced along the table at the people who were glaring at his Uncle for calling them freaks. His Uncle followed his gaze, terrified.

His face fell.

**To be continued…**

A/N: Hope you liked the chapter! Sorry if people didn't like the last one… it was just meant to be funny, 'cause Harry would get really awkward. But, anyway, as always reviews are very much welcome, along with any constructive criticism you have for me. :)


	7. Fatherhood And How To Prevent It

Disclaimer: Just 'cause I live in the same city as JK and just 'cause the first HP book was written in a café I used to visit regularly and just _be_cause Hogwarts _may_ be based slightly on my school, doesn't necessarily mean that I _am_ JK… _or_ own HP… damn laws…

A/N: Oh my god! I am _so_ sorry! I so meant to have this up earlier, but real life totally got in the way! :S I've also actually been kinda ill… my parents even thought I had swine flu for a whilee there (since I had all the symptoms)… but I'm fine, so it's okay. :)

Um… this is the last chapter actually guys so… if you've not left a review yet, maybe you would like to for the last one…? Don't worry… I'll remind you at the end. :P Over 100 reviews though guys! Yusss…! xD

This is dedicated to my American friend Carrie, who went back to her country after her 6 month stay in my city… *sniff* I'm gonna miss her. :*(

All the usual rules apply… don't make me write them out. ;)

Oh, and also. Someone pointed out to me that I spelt Metamorph_m_agus wrong. This is in fact my beta's fault as that is how I was originally spelling it. So… yeah. Blame him. :P

On with the last episode of this damn show…

**Muggles, Fan Mail And Metamorphmagus Werewolves  
Chapter 7: Fatherhood And How To Prevent It**

'_Besides,' he said with a slightly manic smile on his face, 'Here it's you who's not normal.' He glanced along the table at the people who were glaring at his Uncle for calling them freaks. His Uncle followed his gaze, terrified. _

_His face fell._

The mail-unwrapping had stopped and a buzz of agitated chatter arose from crowd. But it was only Seamus who spoke directly to him.

'Tosser,' he said, scowling, before ripping open an envelope rather aggressively, effectively tearing it in half. Ron snorted.

Vernon spluttered, his vein pulsing furiously. 'I am not – I… ruddy cheek…'

'What?' Seamus asked nonchalantly looking up, 'Me calling you a tosser? You called me a freak?!' he exclaimed, tone incredulous.

'But _I'm_ not a bloody tosser!' Uncle Vernon hissed back, bearing his teeth, making him appear slightly rabid. Seamus raised his eyebrows.

'But I _am_ a freak. Nice. You know me Dad's a muggle,' he said, waggling his finger at Vernon, 'but he's not like you – he understands. You know, sure he was a little freaked out when he saw me Mam levitating plates to the table for the first time, but he got past that! He got past her potions and magical contraception and he fell in love with her! More than you could ever do, ya English twat… "freak" my arse.'

Harry looked sideways at his Uncle and choked back a laugh. He was staring at Seamus, fists clenched, teeth grinding, with a crazed look in his eye, which, experience told Harry, was not good.

'I don't want to hear about your mother's freakish behaviour,' he growled, 'I have enough problems with it in my own family.' He glowered at Harry, who frowned and glared back.

'Stop it, Vernon!' Petunia choked angrily.

'Yeah – pick on someone your own size!' Seamus laughed at his own comment, 'That'll be hard!' A few people nearby sniggered into their food, some going as far as coughing their mouthfuls into napkins and grinning merrily at Seamus.

'Well – I – see here!' Vernon spluttered.

'What? Wanna see some magic?' laughed Seamus. 'Harry! Do that spell we all learnt in fifth year. You know! The condom spell!

'Er...' Harry glanced at Mrs Weasley who, unfortunately, seemed to hear Seamus' request and who looked quite disapproving until her husband nudged her and said, 'Well they have to learn it sometime, dear…'

Seamus, seemingly undeterred, tried again, 'Okay – well what about a patronus? That's got nothing to do with sex _and_ it's pretty cool.'

'Er…'

'Come on Harry!' spurred on Ron, 'It's _really_ cool – you're the best at it!'

'I'm not the _best_-' began Harry, but Dean cut him off.

'Shut up and do it Harry. Yours is really impressive 'cause you've got such a big animal – come on!'

Harry looked at his Uncle who looked quite terrified at the thought of his Nephew being the best at any sort of magic, let alone that which was going to performed in front of him. It was the droplet of sweat dripping down Vernon's brow that egged him on more than Ron ever could. He took out his wand and leaned forward so he could point it past his Aunt, at his Uncle.

Vernon stiffened and his trembling jaw gaped open.

'What-what are you doing?' he stuttered.

'Magic,' Harry whispered, enjoying the last look of terror on his Uncle's face, letting it fill him up with the feeling of being free, before he jerked his wand so it pointed into the aisle and said quite clearly, 'Expecto Patronum.'

As expected a giant silver stag erupted from the end of his wand and galloped towards the doors of the Great Hall. For a second there was panic as people looked for Dementors, before realizing there was none and settling back into subdued relaxation.

'What _was_ that?' asked Dudley in complete awe.

'It was a patronus. A positive force. Wards away Dementors.'

'So that's what you did when-'

'Yeah,' Harry replied somewhat awkwardly.

'Cool.' Harry almost laughed at the amazement put into the word.

'So it doesn't even ruddy do anything?!' Vernon snapped, having recovered.

'It wards away Dementors,' Ron supplied.

'What? Did you want him to turn you into a frog?' asked Seamus scathingly, 'Because that can easily be arranged-'

'Don't!' said Petunia, grasping Vernon's arm.

Seamus snorted. 'Probably be an improvement anyway…' he muttered, going back to opening mail.

'Anyway,' said Petunia, quite flustered, trying to regain the conversation her and her Nephew were having before her husband intervened, 'Er… where were we?'

'Er…' Harry couldn't honestly remember, but he could swear it was something about his Mother… Luckily, Hermione had been listening in.

'Er,' she began awkwardly, leaning over Harry to address his Aunt, 'You were talking about Snape, then you said "you never really gave the magical world a chance".'

Petunia stared at her blankly for a second, then blinked. 'Lily used to do that… memorize what people said… are you…?' she gestured between Harry and Hermione, the unvoiced question apparent.

'No!' said Harry and Hermione together. They glanced at each other and, simultaneously, each began a speech of "no"s:

'No, what? No. We're just… friends… I mean, never, no, it's just, no. I never even thought – she's with Ron, I never… that-that way-'

'We're just friends. We've never really been more than that – we're best friends but that's it. I maybe liked him in first year, but that never – I got over it. We're just friends-'

Petunia looked quite startled by the enthusiasm of the denial. 'Oh. Right. I just… as you were like Lily I thought you would be compatible… but I was wrong… I've been wrong about a lot of things…' she chuckled, 'You know, I always thought she would end up with Snape-'

'What?!' Harry yelped, distinctly unnerved at the fact his Aunt thought his Mother would end up with the man who made his school life hell.

Petunia chuckled lightly. 'Yes… but I was very wrong about that. One Summer she came home and just never mentioned him. I knew something must of happened, but, as we really weren't on speaking terms at that point, I never asked her,' she said sadly. Her unseeing eyes were staring at the table as though she saw something different to everyone else there; as if in her own invisible pensive.

'I remember her always complaining about "that Potter". My parents always thought something was going on between them, but I never really saw it until much later. I knew someone who made Lily that angry was never going to be very close to her, but over the years her attitude towards him changed. It was subtle, and it definitely wasn't instant, but slowly she would let some of his "wrongdoings" go.' She blinked and met Harry's eyes. She smiled. Harry just looked back. His need for more information from this new perspective greater than his need to be polite.

'For instance, in First Year,' she continued, 'She came home and ranted about this boy in her year who was… insolent and arrogant and a bully, who picked on everyone and – who was almost rewarded for that by the masses. The second Summer was almost the same, as was the third, except she mentioned that he took particular interest in her – he always had – because she disapproved of his behaviour and let him know this on many occasions.

'After that it all just boiled down to her defending things he did and eventually a letter home saying they were dating.' She laughed lightly. 'I remember my Dad – pacing up and down the living room thinking up all these scenarios where Lily would be taken advantage of…' She laughed. 'I think the worst one he thought up was that she was taken advantage of and _liked_ it.'

She smiled and gazed upon Harry, her eyes seeming to bore into him as if seeing him for the first time. Harry watched self-consciously as her eyes traced all the scars and premature lines on his face before finally meeting his stare.

'Your eyes look so old,' she whispered, sadness etched in her features like horror was etched in his. A solitary tear ran down her cheek and Harry looked away.

'Er…?' Seamus was leaning across the table. 'Sorry to interrupt, but I thought I should give you an update…' He glanced at Petunia whose eyes were still boring into the side of Harry's face. 'Er... so far you have fourteen proposals and a modeling contract… would you like to accept any of those offers?' Seamus smirked as Harry shot him a glance that clearly said "you've got to be joking" and shook his head.

The exchange over (Seamus having gone back to open more fan mail), Harry turned back to his Aunt whom had mercifully stopped staring at the side of his head. Another tear ran down her cheek. Brushing it away furiously, she forced a smile and asked, 'So, what do you do for fun? In your world?'

Her seemingly genuine interest took Harry back. It was like she was a different person. He looked around him self-consciously. Seamus, Dean, Ron and Hermione were still opening his fan mail, quietly talking amongst themselves and trying to ignore the blatant Aunt-Nephew bonding that was happening before them. He was pleased at that. Pleased they were at least pretending they didn't hear the whole conversation.

'Er…' began Harry, looking back at his Aunts expectant, watery smile, 'Quidditch.'

'Oh. The game with the balls,' Dudley stated, nodding along with his thoughts so innocently, Harry had to smile.

'Yeah,' he said slowly, 'The game with the balls.'

Petunia, quite rightly, looked confused. 'I think I've heard of it… Lily might've mentioned it once or twice – but I don't know what it is…'

'Er… right. Basically it's a sport played on broomstick. There are seven players on each team: a keeper, two beaters, three chasers and a seeker – that's my position. At the end of the pitch there are three hoops. The chasers have to throw the quaffle through the other teams' hoops and the keeper for that team has to stop them. To make things more difficult, the two beaters have to beat bludgers at the other team and stop them from hitting their team-'

'Wait! What? What are bludgers?' asked Dudley, thoroughly confused by this version of Quidditch since he'd got the idiot's version.

'Right. Bludgers are black balls about that size,' he held up his hands to show the rough size of a bludger, 'And they have a mind of their own. Well – not literally, but they're charmed to attack you. So beaters hit them towards the other team with bats, to kind of give them direction and then they have to protect their own teammates from being hit – that make sense? Right. Then you the seeker – that's me. And I have to catch the golden snitch-'

'That's it?' asked Dudley incredulously. Harry was beginning to wish he'd stuck to the idiot's version.

'Yes. And catching it will earn my team 150 points and will end the game; which means whatever team catches the snitch almost always wins. But it's harder than it looks. It's about the size of a chestnut and flies so fast and erratically that it's almost impossible to catch. Some games have gone on for weeks because no one has caught the snitch.'

'Weeks?! Through the night?'

'Yeah – they had to sub on all their reserves so that the team could get some sleep!'

'So you play the seeker?' asked his Aunt, not waiting for an answer before she continued, 'Are you any good?'

'Yeah… I suppose I was… I was captain in my sixth year…'

'Then you must have been good,' she smiled.

'Dunno if I still am though – it's been a while-'

'Rubbish!'

The mail-unwrapping stopped and everyone turned to the redhead that had spoken.

'Of course you'll still be able to play! It's not something you forget.'

Like everyone was watching a game of tennis, everyone turned to look at Harry, the Weasleys included.

'How do you know I've not lost my touch?' Harry rasped.

'Just because you've not done it in a while, doesn't mean you wont be able to. You just need a bit practice…'

'So I can practice?' he whispered. Ginny gave a slight incline of her head.

'I'm sorry' he said so quietly, Ginny almost had to read his lips.

But his old eyes said it all. It would be hard and it would be difficult. Possibly harder than facing a fifty-foot dragon, maybe even harder than going up against Voldemort himself. But one thing was certain; this time the end result was not the most important. This time it was the journey. And as Petunia gazed upon the scene, she wondered if Harry had ever been given the safe sex talk and what kind of contraception wizards even used.

**The End**

A/N: Thank you for reading all the way to the end. I hoped you liked it. :) Reviews and crit are very much welcome.


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